Salvation
by earlgreydreams
Summary: Jim, Hannah and Elizabeth have found the answer to infection. In the care of soldiers and nestled in the safety of an old English manor, the trio must learn how to survive in a new, post-infection world. Captivity, safety. Love, lust. Obsession, possession. Salvation may not be what they imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One.**

She sat back silently, cradling the coffee, reveling in the warmth it provided her, the comfort it brought. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a truly hot drink. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, shifting the rough brown blanket forward a little, bringing it to cover more. The wind had picked up - she could feel it, even in the high walled enclosure. The hospital gown she was wearing was pretty thin. As she sipped the coffee, she smiled minutely. It was delicious. Definitely instant, definitely a three in one kind of packet and without doubt the best thing she had tasted in a long, long time.

Frank had graciously offered them tea when they had settled into his small, comfortable flat but he'd been too nervous, too worried about the generator to allow the kettle to reach full boil, and the powdered milk he'd had to use had just clumped together, making a foamy, white, lukewarm drink more reminiscent of a poor cappuccino than a cup of tea.

She looked into the depths of the mug, letting her thoughts drift to Frank, the others. Were they still being checked out? Perhaps they were still waiting at the car? It was strange to be away from Selena, Jim and Hannah. Horrible to be severed from Frank.

Strange to be able to relax, to think. Strange to not have to worry.

She sighed again, thoughts drifting to the events that had brought her here.

She had been silently escorted to the makeshift medical office in the imposing manor. The soldier walking with her, showing her the way had remained pretty silent. Not rude at all, just seemingly unsure of what to say. It hadn't bothered her. She didn't even get a name from him but she was still shocked, still too numb to really want to engage in idle chit chat or niceties.

They'd lost Frank. They'd lost him as they were rescued. It was painful, unfair.

Poor Hannah.

The soldiers had separated them almost immediately upon arrival, telling them they would be escorting them from the truck one by one with the assurance they would see each other soon. They had to be checked out, it was just a routine medical check but procedure dictated it had to be individually.

It had been strange to hear that word. Procedure. The world had fallen apart but here, it seemed the military cog continued to turn, to tick and to work.

Salvation.

Elizabeth had been helped down from the truck first, led away by a stoic soldier. The others waited for instructions, patiently, tiredly but when Elizabeth had moved a distance away, Hannah had started crying, clutching onto Selena with a vice like grip. Seeing Elizabeth away from the group made the young girl realize she absolutely didn't want to be away from them, that she couldn't be away from them.

Hannah's sudden outpouring of grief, of desperate wails and panic had stunned the soldiers. They had looked between one another, not sure of what to do. She'd been so quiet just moments before.

"She's just lost her Dad-"Elizabeth had told the soldier walking with her, both of them coming to a stop to watch the scene behind them, "please don't seper-"

"Selena!" Hannah sobbed loudly, the desperation in her voice shocking Elizabeth into silence. Elizabeth could see Selena cuddling the cowering girl, whispering into her ear.

"She's just a kid-" Jim had protested softly - so softly that Elizabeth had barely heard him - and imploringly to the three soldiers grouped around them, who still seemed unsure of what to do or how to proceed.

"Alright, alright-" a soldier had said, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of tears from the previously stoic girl, "it's OK-"

The soldier beside Elizabeth had begun walking, jerking his head to indicate that she should come with him, "they'll look after her" he'd said and while Elizabeth wondered who he meant by "they" - the soldiers or her friends, she got the distinct feeling he didn't quite want to deal with the young girl's tears.

She'd followed him silently, casting another look back at the group as she went.

They walked together in silence, Hannah's cries becoming quieter and quieter as they moved out of sight.

The soldier's radio had crackled, "permission for two females to attend the medical check together-" Hannah's sobs and wails had been clear through the static of the radio.

A curt "permission granted" followed shortly after and that was that.

Elizabeth had folded her arms as she walked, hugging herself. The soldier had been right, Hannah had been taken care of.

The soldier didn't speak with her and likewise she still hadn't felt compelled to strike up conversation. She was thinking about Frank. They'd made it to safety, followed the plan he'd so passionately fought for..and he'd died just before rescue.

God, it was painful.

Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth had started when they reached a grand and imposing manor house. She hadn't paid any attention, walking almost trance like. She felt like the house had suddenly appeared. It was incredibly beautiful from the outside and though the lawn currently held an array of barbed wire fences, warning signs and blockades, she'd noticed the grass was growing unevenly in two different colors. The previous owners must have had one of those high maintenance striped lawns. The soldier didn't lead her through the grand main entrance, rather, he led her past heavily armored walls and down into a lower area of the house. It was cool and somewhat tired, with chipped, painted walls and bare stone floors. She'd assumed, dimly, that it would have been a service area for staff once upon a time.

It turned out the soldier had escorted her straight to a medical office. It was one floor above the basement, one floor below ground - or that's what she had been told, anyway. If she'd been in her right mind, if she had been present and paying attention, she would have been disoriented by the layout. But, distracted as she was, all she really knew was that it was a windowless and also charmless space. She couldn't guess what the area had been used for in times past.

There were two beds, lots of medical equipment and every cupboard had a lock on it. The soldier who brought her told her, speaking for the first time, that this was pretty much the entirety of a medical tent they'd taken. As soon as he'd stepped into the room, he'd become more comfortable in himself, more eager to chat. He'd taken off his helmet, stored his gun. He'd helped her wash her hands thoroughly, almost painfully scrubbing the nails with a nail brush all the while fishing for details on her life - her name, where she was originally from.

Brightly, he'd told her that he was originally from Brighton but had moved - and stayed - up North for training. He'd told her his father had planned for him to be a doctor and had "lost his shit" when he chose to join the army and "lost his shit again" when he'd trained to be an army medic. He'd handed her a sterile and thin medical gown as well as gloves and a pair of scissors and told her to change behind a screen in the corner, going into very specific detail on how she was to take off and store her clothes. Gloves on, cut the sleeves, cut from the neck to the hem and let her shirt slip off. Same for her trousers.

"Doesn't it have to be fresh blood? A fresh bite? I-" she had paused in her question, speaking from behind the curtains, letting the trousers slip down to her ankles. She'd stepped out from the carefully, looking at her body in the cracked mirror leaning against the wall. Bruises, dirt but no cuts or injuries. Hadn't Frank had been infected from the blood of an infected corpse?...clearly the blood didn't need to be fresh..but was stained fabric really a threat?

"Want to take the chance, do you?" he'd replied, his voice holding amusement. She could hear him tinkering from somewhere in the room.

He was right. She didn't want to take the chance.

She'd put her clothes in a bright yellow bag, sealing it and seeing the bio-hazard symbols as she did.

"Did they do all this, you know" she had asked through the curtain, securing the gown tightly, "when things hadn't...-"

"Gone to total fuckery?" he'd supplied.

"Yeah"

She'd stepped out from behind the screen, leaving the bag as she'd been told to. He'd left her a clean pair of socks and she'd slipped them on.

He had directed her to sit on a stool in front of a busy desk and he'd sat directly in front of her, small flashlight in hand, "they had quarantines set up in hospitals and shit but what good's burning clothes when infected patients aren't secured? Like, yeah they dumped bloody clothes and stuff in the biohazard bins 'cause it's standard procedure but...yeah. Dunno, it all fell to shit pretty fast, eh? Good thing I wasn't a doctor, they were the first to die"

He'd shrugged, his words having little affect on him. Obviously talk of infected and death didn't bother him much anymore. He'd told her he was going to check her eyes.

She had't been entirely comfortable answering some of his more invasive questions, or letting him check her over...he wasn't a doctor, after all, but he'd told her sincerely that he'd done his training and was a qualified nurse. He was due to to continue his medical training before infection had hit. He'd laughed a little, "God, my old man hated that. Said nursing was for women..." and she'd allowed the check without protest.

Eye check, blood pressure, heartbeat and lungs.

It had almost felt like a regular trip to see her GP.

Anyway, as far as checks went it wasn't particularly invasive and he'd kept the idle chatter up. He clearly felt comfortable in the medical office. She could barely imagine that he'd escorted her here in total silence.

He'd given her some injections, some immunization boosters and told her he'd give her one dose of antibiotics, too, just as a precautionary measure. He added to her that it was best to use them now - they had finite expiration dates. All the medicine did.

When the check was over, he'd given her a blanket and showed her to a small enclosed garden. It was some kind of sun trap, maybe designed for drying rags and cloth back when this area of the house was used by the help. There was ivy clawing its way up two of the brick walls. There was a table and chair and not much else.

He'd given her a clipboard and pen and asked her to jot down her information, her medical history and anything that she could remember that would be of use. He left her alone. She'd sat on the chilly metal seat and glanced down the page before her - name, age, height, weight, blood type and a list of diseases to be circled if she'd ever had them. She filled everything out to the best of her ability. No diabetes, no high blood pressure, she'd never had surgery...

With a sigh, she'd clipped the pen to the board and placed it down on the table. It had felt strange, strange to be writing her health history. She'd been so sure those days of medical care were long gone.

With a brief apology, the soldier returned. He'd popped a coffee down on the metal table, scooping up her completed form on his way up. He had given it a cursory glance, nodding as he went over the information.

Elizabeth had simply blinked down at the coffee. She wasn't sure where he'd gone to prepare it but the gesture was a kind one.

He'd put the clipboard under his arm explained that the other soldiers were busy and she couldn't be left unattended in the manor, not yet, so she was to wait there until someone could come and get her.

He still had to check the others.

She'd asked him for his name, feeling bad that throughout the whole check, their whole meeting she'd not asked it.

"Beford" he'd told her easily "shouldn't be a long wait, OK?"

And with that, he'd closed and locked the door, leaving her once more to her thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

"We've got you a room-" an accented voice spoke from behind her and she jolted in her seat, jerked out her thoughts with a surprise. She spilled some of the coffee on her hand. Cursing softly, she wiped her hands together. Placing the china cup delicately on the decorative metal table, she stood to face the soldier. She'd been so lost in her thoughts, thinking about Frank, about the others and, somewhat selfishly, she thought, thinking about how happy she was to be safe, she hadn't even heard the click of the lock.

The soldier was tall, heavily armed despite being indoors and on apparent host duty and while she would have considered him handsome, he exuded cockiness, a haughty attitude. He hadn't been present at their rescue.

"Are the others OK?" she inquired, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her torso.

"Still doing the check, innit? Well. The bloke's still out at the truck. Girl won't stop bawlin', so it's gonna take a hot minute to do her check" he shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his holster, "surprised you couldn't hear her-"

"She just lost her Dad" Elizabeth reminded him, unable to keep the frown from her face. Where was the empathy? Sympathy?

"Dad? That the guy who was gettin' ready to kill her then? Red eyes, foaming at the mouth, twitchin' an all that?" he lent against the doorway, "looked kind of infected? Ring a bell? That the guy? Not to be rude an all but I'd say we did her a favor"

"Yeah. That's the guy. So she's lost her dad twice" Elizabeth told him with a genuine frown, "I'm grateful you've saved us - and I'm sure she is, too - but could you show her a bit of sympathy? She's not even sixteen-"

The soldier laughed, genuine amusement dancing across his face "Sympathy? World ain't got no room for sympathy no more love"

She looked at him with thinly veiled disgust, despite the gratitude she felt for the welcome they'd received. She was here, alive at this very moment because of basic sympathy - Frank had saved them in their desperate climb to safety. How easy would it have been for him to stay safely barricaded behind his flat? But no. He'd heard their screams of terror and come.

"How about basic humanity?" she tried, wanting to give this brash man the benefit of the doubt.

The soldier laughed again, still genuinely amused by the woman before him.

"Jesus Christ" he grinned, "it's a wonder how you made it. You seem a bit too nice, you do"

She shook her head. It was clear this conversation would take them nowhere.

"Look, you comin' in or what? Cause if you wanna chat about humanity and shit I'll just send the Serg out. He lives for preachin' that rubbish-"

She shook her head. She didn't quite want to talk about ethics and humanity, "just be nice to her?" she asked, surely this cocky soldier could produce kindness. He seemed to have a playful air about him, at least.

"Yeah yeah" he lent his back against the wall, giving her space to pass "oi, bring that coffee would ya? Didn't they tell you it's rationed?"

She duly brought it, wondering who "they" were, exactly. She'd only met the soldier who had walked her to the manor, the nurse. He'd been the one to give her a coffee, leaving her in the safety of the enclosed sun spot.

She watched as he downed the coffee in one long gulp.

"Waste not" he grinned, extending his hand to the corridor before him, "so, you a Lizzie or a Beth?"

"I'm a Liz" she told him, meeting his eyes as she passed by him and into the chilly corridor, "how about you?"

"Ain't a Liz, Lizzie or a Beth" he told her, tapping her shoulder as he passed her to take the lead. She smiled a little as she followed him.

Crass, brash but, she had to admit, he was a little comforting in his blunt ways, his Northern humor.

"So, how did you find this place?" she asked him as they walked through a service corridor and up some sturdy but old wooden steps.

"It's on a map" he replied, stating the obvious.

"Great" she replied.

They entered the large, grand lobby. Its marble floor shone brightly and while it was heavily cluttered with boxes and machines and accessories, there was an order to it. Organised chaos. She looked around. The large windows had been boarded well, leaving just enough space for thin beams of light to pass through. There was a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling and stupidly huge marble statues placed throughout the space. With the high ceilings, dark mahogany details and marble everywhere, she imagined this to be a cold, unwelcoming lobby. The soldier's clutter actually seemed to have made it more homely.

"Aren't you behind schedule, Private?" a tall, well dressed soldier asked with a raised eyebrow. He looked between her and the soldier beside her.

"Shootin' the shit wasn't we, Major" the soldier replied with a grin.

Ah. A Major.

Elizabeth resisted the ridiculous, inappropriate urge to laugh. It must have been the culmination of stress, exhaustion but her first reaction upon hearing the soldier's title was one of recognition..before she realized she had no idea what it really meant. Majors, Colonels, Privates. Ranks she'd only really glanced upon in the news in passing or heard in action movies. And here she was. Face to face with a Major. It sounded very important, anyway.

"Right. Please escort-" he waited for Elizabeth to state her name, which she duly did despite feeling certain he already knew it, "Elizabeth to her room and then report to the front line"

"Aye Aye" the soldier replied cheekily but with seriousness in his actions.

The Major nodded, glanced at Elizabeth once more, before walking away.

"Your room's got a shower, bed and a loo. All the amenities of a five star hotel, here love. We all get two showers a day but they got a timer. All of 'em do. Four minutes but the water's warm" he looked her up and down with a lascivious grin, "personally I'd do the hair first, let the suds wash down your body-"

She didn't need him thinking about her body or her in the shower, "I think I can manage a shower" she told him.

He chuckled and shrugged easily.

They had already reached the second floor, "bedroom's are spread over second and third floors" he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "when you're in your room, door's locked-" she opened her mouth to protest but he spoke over her before she could even begin "for your safety and ours. You ain't got the first clue about military ops love, so door stays locked"

"What about the others?" she asked, turning a corner with him.

"Jeeeeesus H Christ" he laughed, "You're a bloody broken record with that, you know?"

He came to a halt before a door, opening it carelessly, "this one's you. Four minute shower. Water stops and your still soapy-" he grinned widely, reminding her "you're shit outta luck"

She stepped inside and as she opened her mouth to again ask about her friends, he beat her to it, "they're fucking fine. Medical check. Bedroom. Shower. Dinner. You're all the same. Someone'll get you on the hour"

And with that, he closed the door firmly in her face.

"Charming" she muttered, hearing the lock click loudly in the tall room.

She sighed and leaned against the door. She didn't even get his name.

Sighing into the silence of her new room, she paused.

She understood why they would want to keep the door locked. After all, both her and her friends were civilians and strangers. The soldier was right: she didn't know anything about the military, how it was run or how they did things here. It was safer for her to stay away from it, lest she cause trouble. The soldiers, at least the one who had just left, seemed quite...laddish. She didn't think they'd appreciate her or her friends getting under their feet and she didn't really want to hear what they'd say if she did. Plus...she was a stranger to them. So was Jim, Selena. Hannah. For all the soldiers knew, they were sociopathic maniacs who were thriving in the brutality of the infection.

It would take time.

Trust needed time. Everyone needed to settle.

She sighed again, before taking time to look around.

Lit by candles of varying shapes and sizes, she could see the room in a soft glow.

She tilted her head. That was a thoughtful move, lighting the candles so her room was lit upon arrival.

The room was very, very beautiful. There were tall, wide windows overlooking the fortified garden, tall tables with what looked like a phone and little trinkets as well as a grand dressing table with an array of mirrors, brushes and bottles. She assumed the soldier's hadn't had much interest in the more feminine elements of the house. Perhaps Jim's assigned room would be sparser?

The bed was, as with everything else in the mansion, huge. Bigger than her old double and she thought it was perhaps even bigger even than a king. There were plush looking pillows, a thick duvet and some throws draped over it. She ran her fingers over the soft, silken throw before pulling it back a little to reveal a plump, cotton covered duvet.

A clean, warm, giant bed.

She'd never known luxury like this.

Shaking her head with a mixture of awe and sadness, she moved to the imposing wardrobes. Tentatively reaching forward, she couldn't help the huge smile that exploded across her face when she saw the huge selection of clean clothes.

Clean.

Clothes.

She never thought she'd see those again. She grabbed the nearest item, a slinky red dress and inhaled it deeply. Fresh. She grinned, momentarily forgetting the others, her sorrow, Frank. She took a step back and admired the contents. Ballgowns, dresses, sports wear and an eclectic mix of sweaters and hoodies. Had the previous owner used the different rooms as clothes storage? Had the soldiers just dumped clothes here? It was certainly a strange mix. Strange but a beautiful sight all the same. Excitement building, she knelt down to explore the wide drawers. Expecting to find shoes, she laughed in happiness when she found a big selection of bras and underwear. Only a few were true to her size but it wouldn't be much of a squeeze to wear the others and who cared if the straps dug into her shoulder a little? She was looking at clean underwear. She scooped up a simple pair of black underwear, the first bra similar to her size as well as buttery soft black yoga leggings and a grey sweater. She didn't bother to unfold the sweater, it just looked warm. Warm and clean.

Pressing the fabric close to her face and inhaling deeply once again, she couldn't believe how lucky she was.

They had found it. Salvation.

Moving by the bed, she slowly entered the bathroom. The door was already slightly ajar, and, nudging it open with the tip of her toes, she froze in delight.

The bathroom was lovely, kind of eclectic and tired but charming because of it. The few candles scattered around added to the image. It was old and sterile and white, and while there was only one each of the essentials, there was an unholy amount of makeup, hair accessories and feminine products. She supposed the soldiers didn't want or need those. Placing her clean clothes on a faded, floral cabinet, she closed the bathroom door firmly before looking at the huge bathtub.

It was a giant tub. She guessed it could fit two people comfortably. It was a brass, claw foot tub with beautifully rounded edges and copper taps. The shower curtain was surprisingly clinical, a boring, semi-sheer white and while the overall affect of the feet, taps and curtain was mismatchy...it felt comfortable. Unimposing despite its size.

And what did she know? The soldier hadn't lied.

There was a tall, copper piped shower.

An actual, working shower.

She shed the socks and medical gown, walking as if in a trance to the tub.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

She was fresh and clean from the shower, feeling like a human again. Feeling normal. Like she was before infection had hit.

She'd had towel washes and wipe downs in the weeks since infection but the shower was heaven. All four minutes of it. She'd scrubbed her scalp, her ears, every nook and cranny. She'd shaved her armpits. She'd let herself drip silently in the claw-foot tub, listening to the steady drips of water from the shower head until they had run dry and until the chill had forced her out.

It was so peaceful. Such a luxury to have time.

She'd grabbed a huge bath towel from the pile and snugly wrapped it around her chest. Letting herself air dry despite the goosebumps from the chilly room, she'd brushed her teeth for almost seven minutes, sitting on the lid of the toilet and letting her thoughts drift as her teeth had a good,solid scrubbing. No threat of an infection attack. No hurry, no rush. Just time to clean.

A luxury indeed.

Scooping her damp hair into a high bun, she had moved to sit cross legged on the firm, plush bed. The leggings she wore were perfectly stretchy, soft. The sweater she'd tugged from the wardrobe was actually a cashmere, mohair blend and stylishly high-necked. It swamped her frame, though she wasn't sure if that was down to her losing so much weight over the past weeks or just the design of the sweater. Oversize was in fashion before infection hit.

Just as she felt her eyes becoming heavy, there was a dull knock on her door.

She looked at it, waiting for the crass soldier from before to come barging in but nothing followed the knock.

"Uh...come in?" she called, unsure of herself.

The lock rattled for a moment and the door opened, showing a tall, somewhat unshaven man in khakis. He was armed but his hands were empty. She presumed the soldiers would never be unarmed, not anymore.

"Good evening, Elizabeth. If you feel up to it, I've come to escort you to dinner" he told her politely, speaking softly. He had a soft accent.

"Oh" she replied, scooting off the bed. Dinner. Being called down to dinner after a shower and changing into clean, fresh clothes.

Jesus.

"I'm Sergeant Farrell" the solider introduced himself, "sorry. I should have introduced myself first-"

"No, no it's fine" she assured him, stepping out into the corridor. He shut the door behind her, "Thank you. Sergeant, are my friends OK?"

"They're all fine, Selena and Hannah, was it?" when she nodded he continued, "They're still finishing their check, I think the young woman has exhausted herself. Your other friend is just having a quick tour, but he should be finished by now. I imagine he's being shown his room"

She paused for a moment. Didn't the soldier from before say Jim was still at the car? "I thought Jim was being checked last?" she asked.

"I think the shock of recent events has been...overwhelming" the Sergeant took time with his words, she noticed, "to save time, Jim went ahead"

"Oh. Thank you" she said sincerely, glad to have some concise information about the others and also happy to be speaking with a soldier that didn't swear every other sentence, "Poor Hannah..."

"I think she's fine, physically" he commiserated kindly, keeping his pace even with hers as they walked down the stairs, "but your friend and our medic have agreed to give her some medication. I think she's going to be out of it for tonight, to be truthful"

"That's good. Maybe time to just...be away from the world for a bit..." she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. What was she even trying to say? So what if Hannah could sleep and rest now? Did it matter if she was dosed up with Selena's Xanax? She would be flooded with pain all over again when she woke up.

The poor girl was in for one hell of a tough few months.

"I imagine you've been through a lot together" The Sergeant mused, directing her through a beautiful oak door.

"Hasn't everyone?" Elizabeth asked with a sad shrug.

He'd brought her to a small lounge. It was an intimate room with two small sofas, an arm chair, a crackling fire and walls that were filled with portraits and watercolor scenes. On a low coffee table, gilded with gold - she was sensing a theme within the manor - there were two steaming cups of tea, various small bread rolls and what looked like a hot bowl of stew.

The smell hit her almost immediately.

It was so good.

Her mouth watered and she started forward, flushing as she caught herself.

"Please, don't stop on my account" the Sergeant said, again with kindness, "I believe we'll have a formal dinner tomorrow night but for now, seeing as everyone is in different stages of their enrollment" - how very military, she thought - "we thought it best for you to take dinner as and when, then rest up"

She nodded and followed his arm, his invitation, before settling on the sofa.

She was right, it was stew. A huge bowl, filled to the rim with potatoes, carrots and chunks of beef.

"The beef came from a can" he informed her, somewhat apologetically as he came to sit opposite her, picking up one of the mugs of tea, "nothing will be truly fresh anymore, though we've actually sourced some chickens..."

She moaned in delight as she took a mouthful, not really focusing on his words.

The stew itself was terribly salty, and someone had dumped dry oregano onto the finished product but it was so unbelievably comforting. So...normal.

The Sergeant let her eat in silence, simply seeming to enjoy his tea and allowing himself stare into the fire.

As Elizabeth reached for a bread roll, she grinned upon realizing they were very fresh. Fresh and soft.

"One of our men is a very established baker" the Sergeant supplied, glancing over at his charge, smiling at her delight as she bit into the white, seeded roll.

"-there are some sweet rolls, too. I think these ones have jam inside..." he gestured to a smaller cluster of buns pushed to the side of the platter. They were about the size of a golf ball. Small but plentiful.

"Please" Elizabeth said thickly, swallowing the bread, suddenly feeling very guilty and self conscious, "I feel kind of disgusting, stuffing my face like a pig. Won't you have one?"

"Everything is rationed. The bread was divvied up especially for you, equal portions for your friends, too...though it does look like the kitchen has been a little generous, tonight.."

"I haven't eaten very well since infection hit" she smiled sadly, ripping a small hunk from her bread roll, "I feel like I'll get an upset stomach if I eat too much ...regular...food too soon. Besides, if there's extra, I'm happy to share"

She'd spent the past weeks living off anything from a tin, the occasional pack of biscuits or crisps. Not terrible, but not particularly balanced and always cold. Fleetingly she wondered if this hearty stew would send her to the toilet and then, briefly she wondered if the toilets were in working order.

He watched her thoughtfully, though she couldn't have guessed as to what he was thinking.

He nodded before plucking one of the sweet rolls from its place, "you're generous to share, rations are guarded pretty fiercely..."

Elizabeth hadn't thought of the food before her as being rationed but, musing on it for just a second, she thought it made sense.

Everything was finite.

They ate in silence, the Sergeant once more gazing into the flickering flames, nibbling his bun and sipping his tea while Elizabeth steadily worked on polishing off her stew and all but two of the bread rolls.

She settled herself back into the sofa when she was finished, feeling ridiculously full, as she joined her companion in watching the fire.

"So, Sergeant...how did you find this place?" she asked quietly, stomach full and feeling swollen.

Before he could reply, she smiled tightly "but please don't tell me it's on a map."

"Ah. I see you already asked Mitchell?" the Sergeant smiled ruefully as Elizabeth memorized the name. Mitchell. "well...that is the blunt answer. It's on a map-"

He smiled a little and shook his head, "but we're the only ones that had physical maps, that's why it's ours" he emphasized the word, `ours` and Elizabeth frowned a little.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone, everyone outside of military life that is, relied on their phones or the internet after the infection hit, but services went down so fast...people didn't even have a chance to find an isolated place on maps before it went offline-"

Elizabeth nodded, "I stayed in my apartment...it was on the 17th floor..they were reporting that people should secure themselves and I saw a post..it was my neighbor that shared it, actually...people were going to go down to the tube station by me but" she shrugged a little, not sure how to articulate the fear she'd felt, "I was too scared..everyone was scared and they were running and screaming and I just..I didn't want to be in that kind of panicked crowed..so I stayed..then it went dark"

"You made the right choice. I assume Selena, Jim and poor Hannah and her father had stayed in a safe place too?"

She nodded.

"That saved you. It seems everyone ran to find a safe place but of course there were no safe places. Not then. In London we hear they aimed for the tube, Parliament buildings. We heard reports of Buckingham Palace being charged upon by desperate people...much the same happened here, running anywhere that had once been a symbol of safety; police stations, fire stations. People tried to break into a prison" he shook his head, "it was chaos. Then the power went out, services were cut off and people were left outside, scrambling wildly with the infected on their heels-"

Elizabeth blinked, nodded. She remembered hearing it, even from the thick double glazing of her small flat. She'd moved from the open living and kitchen to the cozy bedroom, to the bathroom and even into the hallway, but the screams, wails, bangs and even explosions had penetrated every room. Her building had fallen silent as chaos seemed to surround it.

It felt like it had happened so fast. A slow burn suddenly exploding.

"Almost nobody has...had...a physical map anymore...perhaps nobody knew where they could grab one in all the confusion. In any case, the younger generations probably wouldn't even know how to navigate a paper map" the Sergeant murmured, "but we have regularly updated maps at our disposal. Of course, we utilized technology but we always had our backups. We were over run and we retreated here...we were the only ones to do so"

He placed his empty cup back on the small table, "and you are the first survivors we have come across"

"Have you been in contact with any one else? Radio or..." she trailed off as the Sergeant shook his head.

"Our Major may very well be the highest ranking person in our sad old country" he murmured, looking into the fire once again.

She glanced down at the rich pattern of the sofa. She remembered that the last update she'd seen regarding the Royal Family and the Prime Minister had been an early one, when the riots had just started to increase. When that's all everyone thought it was. Just riots. Violent and scary, yes, but controllable all the same. Order would be restored swiftly, there had been talks of water cannons being deployed. There would be no evacuation for high ranking officials or the Royals, apparently that was all just nonsense and rumors. It was business as usual and there had been a very firm statement about not letting such violence get the better of ordinary citizens. Assurances of arrest, prosecution...and then everything seemed to implode. TV stations were going off air, social media was exploding before suddenly, it was right there in front of you. On the street.

She sat in thoughtful silence, moving slowly to pluck her tea from the table.

It was lukewarm now but it was strong and comforting all the same.

She blinked, once again looking at the plush material of the sofa, the rug. All the chaos, the fear, the blood, the death. And here she was.

Safe.

"Are we safe here?" she asked, looking into the depths of her tea.

"I'd say so" Sergeant Farrell replied "we're very isolated. We control the only road leading up to the property. The area around us is dense, not easily navigable by foot. Difficult to get to without a vehicle. Yes, I'd say so. You are safe here, Elizabeth. Your friends, too"

She nodded, "thank you.."

She sipped her tea as the fire cracked.

She almost couldn't believe she was experiencing such luxury.

Warm. Safe. Full.

"Elizabeth?" she was being shaken lightly and, dazed but without urgency, she opened her eyes.

"Oh..." she muttered, blinking sluggishly and righting herself. She'd fallen asleep.

"I have to report for duty soon"

She blinked, nodding as she sat up straight. This had been his free time? He'd spent time with her on his break? She yawned.

"Perhaps you'd like to retire for the evening?"

She covered her second wide yawn with the back of her hand. She felt exhausted.

"I suppose the events of the day have caught up with you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't even realize I was this tired" she muttered, totally caught off guard. She moved forward, sleepily readying herself to collect the empty bowl before he told her kindly not to bother herself.

"Really, Jim will be eating here, too, so it makes more sense to move all the dirty dishes at the same time-"

He opened the door, holding it open for her. With an apologetic, thankful smile, she followed his arm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four.**

Blinking and slowly sitting up in sleepy confusion, Elizabeth looked at the room she was in. She'd almost forgotten; she had a bedroom. She was safe.

She felt a little chill pass through the room and she snuggled into the thick duvet, looking out of the windows. It was a cold day, the sky a bright and cloudy white. She really must have been a zombie last night for the curtains were still open, secured as they had been when she'd been first shown to the room. She must have just slipped straight into the bed, though she couldn't particularly remember it.

She yawned. How long had she slept for? Trinkets and decorations were scattered about the room but not a working clock.

Slipping out of bed, she was glad she'd worn the leggings and sweater to sleep in. The room was freezing. She did a small leap, jumping from the icy floorboard onto the thick rug. How would they heat this gargantuan mansion in real winter? It wasn't far away. Her room had a grand but empty fireplace as well as a row of old radiators against the wall, but she assumed they would be too difficult, too power consuming to run. Glancing at the fireplace once more, she wondered if the mansion's chimneys were even in working order?

Moving to the cupboard, she opened the door. Smiling a little as she pushed aside the red dress, a pretty beaded black number and a purple dress that was definitely a product of the 80s, she decided once again to go down the comfortable route. She unfolded a thick grey hoody, raising her eyebrow at the designer tag sewn into the back. It was a serious designer brand. She shook the item out and shook her head - this silly hoody must have cost almost as much as one month's rent on her apartment. Maybe even more. It was so nondescript, too. The previous owner was definitely rich. She scooped out a pair of black jogging bottoms.

Heading to the bathroom to change, she put the clothes down on the closed toilet seat before allowing herself once more to take her time brushing her teeth, to revel in activity. How mundane it used to be, brushing teeth.

Rinsing the sink briefly, unsure of how much tap water she could use or whether that was rationed, too, she glanced at the lotions and bottles cluttering the porcelain space. Snail essence. Whitening lotion. Foaming face wash with Korean script. Everything was so fancy! She smiled, spotting a familiar apricot scrub.

That would definitely do the trick. After scrubbing her face with more force than she usually would have, scrubbing it to an almost painful degree, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Truthfully, while her skin looked a little pallid and the circles under her eyes were dark and puffy, she'd looked worse. She'd not had much chance to drink sodas or caffeine or alcohol, not had chance to cover herself in creams and masks. The infection had given her skin a chance to rest, it seemed. She snorted at the ridiculousness of it. She shook her head and looked at some of the makeup scattered on the counter and rummaged curiously in a leather makeup case before pulling out a high street brand foundation powder. She wouldn't know where to start with the expensive pallets or contour sticks but this, this she could work with. It was unopened and, luckily a perfect match. Well. Maybe not perfect, she'd never been to the makeup counter to get confirmation but "ivory" had always worked well for her. Using the small sponge that came in the compact, she slowly added a layer to her face. Nothing special but, damn was it nice to feel like her old self. As she dabbed a little blush on her cheeks, she smiled at her reflection.

She could never have imagined she would have found safety, stability in the midst of infection.

Changing her clothes and delicately folding the previous day's sweater and leggings, she stashed her used underwear discreetly between the folds of the sweater. She left them on a clear area of the counter. What was the situation with laundry, she wondered, as she settled down onto the toilet. Nervously looking at the closed door, she felt a little discomforted trying to pee, wondering if a soldier would come knocking. She closed her eyes, took a breath and let it out. Thankfully her stomach was quite settled after yesterday's dinner.

Finishing up in the bathroom, pleasantly surprised by the weak but effective flush, Elizabeth tugged her hair free from its high bun, shaking it out quickly. Tucking her hands into the baggy sleeves of her hoody, she walked towards the closed doors.

Would they still be locked?

With a small shrug, she reached for the handle, giving it a tentative twist.

After hearing a small click, she frowned, giving the door a small pull.

It opened easily.

Poking her head into the corridor, unsure of herself, she stepped into the quiet area.

"Up and about finally?" quipped a voice and Elizabeth froze. She couldn't see anyone. "I would make a joke about sleepin' beauties and laziness or somethin' but to be honest, I bloody appreciated the extra lunch portion"

She'd slept through breakfast and lunch?

"Bloody hell, how did you survive the infection?" the voice quipped again and she recognized it as Mitchell, his gruff words. Turning, looking around her, she just couldn't place him. All the doors apart from hers were closed.

He whistled, "Oi! Sherlock" she threw her hands up in frustration before he whistled again, much like one would to a dog, "stairs!"

She turned, peered down the corridor and sure enough, she could see him crouching on the top stair, fiddling with something low down.

Shaking her head, she closed her door and walked to meet him.

"I thought our doors had to stay locked?" she quipped, looking down at the burly soldier, not really minding, not complaining, but wanting to get back at him for the Sherlock quip.

"Been workin' here for four hours now, figured you'd be up an about" he cut something with a heavy looking pair of pliers before grunting and hauling himself to his feet, "if I weren't here it would be locked"

"Procedure" she nodded seriously, pretending she knew, pretending she was in the loop before the smirk broke out on her face.

He grinned and rolled his eyes, "cute"

"I'll take you down to the Major-" he nudged some tools aside with his booted foot and gestured for her to follow him down the stairs, "just don't fuckin' knock anythin', alright? Almost finished"

"What are you working on?" she asked as they walked down, side by side.

"Stuff"

"What stuff?"

"Fuckin' technical stuff"

"That's informative" she sighed as they reached the end of the stairs. He directed her towards the small room she'd taken dinner in last night.

"You won't know what I'm talkin' about anyway so I really don't see the point in wasting my time in tellin' you"

"Wasted a lot of time with that sentence, though..." she muttered, actually enjoying his gruff nature. Enjoying the banter, enjoying the normalcy.

With a deadpan stare in her direction, he knocked the door. A muffled, "enter" was the response and Mitchell duly opened the door.

She was a little surprised he didn't make her do it herself but she entered the room without comment.

"She's awake, Sir" Mitchell announced, pointing his thumb towards her, as the Major stood.

"I can see that, thank you" The Major was dressed comfortably, khaki trousers and a green turtle neck. He held himself high, with dignity and, as she saw Jim sitting on one of the sofas, she couldn't help but notice the difference between the men. The Major was tall, imposing and refined. Almost cold.

"Please, sit" he offered Elizabeth and she nodded, a little unsure of how to act around him.

"Liz, you OK?" Jim asked as the Major politely excused himself, stepping outside with Mitchell.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm great" she smiled, moving in to hug the man before her.

They'd survived together.

With a tight squeeze, Jim broke the hug and she checked with him, "You're OK? You have stitches-"

His eye had been cut open for a week or so.

"Yeah they did it last night. Belford-"

"Bedford" she corrected.

"stitched me up, got nine in the end. Bloody hurt, too-"

She nodded, wincing at the wound. It looked red, swollen and angry but not as bad as it had been...it looked a damn sight cleaner than before, too.

"Have you seen Selena and Hannah?" she asked, sitting back in the sofa, holding his arm gently.

"Uh, yeah" he shook his head a little, "I saw them after I got patched up and had dinner but, I dunno. Hannah's a mess and Selena won't leave her"

"Where are they now?"

"Still sleeping. A Sergeant woke me up this morning and I asked to see them - sorry, it's just Hannah...I knew you can handle yourself" when she waved her hand dismissively, Jim continued, "He opened their door but they were still sleeping, totally out of it, so I kind of left them to it"

"They share a room?"

"Nah, he said we all have our own rooms but Hannah..." he trailed off.

She nodded.

She opened her mouth to ask more questions but the Major opened the door once more.

He was alone.

"Would you like a tour of the mansion and grounds?" he asked politely.

Truthfully, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to talk with Jim, to find out about what happened to him the past night, to get his impression of their situation, but, as they both glanced at each other, they knew it would be rude to decline.

With a nod, Jim stood and waited for Elizabeth to do the same.

"I trust you slept well, Elizabeth?" the Major asked as the two figures rose from the sofa.

"Wonderfully, thank you. The room is amazing, you've been very generous"

The Major looked pleased at her words, "Are you hungry? I'm afraid Jim and I already took our lunch out at the garden"

She shook her head. She was still full from her dinner last night. She was peckish but knew she could wait for dinner. She remembered Sergeant Farrell telling her about a formal dinner tonight, "I'm fine. Thank you"

It was strange. While Mitchell seemed to thrive and enjoy sarcasm, blunt humor and almost rudeness, the Major seemed to silently demand respect. They were polar opposites. And then there was Sergeant Farrell, kind and quiet and who genuinely deserved respect.

It was an interesting group so far.

"Well then. Let's start with the third floor?" the Major suggested, seeing them out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five.**

"So who used to own this house? Where are they now?" Jim asked as the Major walked them back down to the lobby.

They had seen the upper floors of the house; the door of an attic that was firmly off limits, the third floor wing of bedrooms to which the doors stayed firmly closed, the second floor bedrooms which were also firmly closed and they had seen the formal sitting room, the small sitting room they'd started in, the formal dining room and were now being led down towards the kitchen.

The Major had been a gracious, informative host and allowed them free reign to touch, look and explore...but it had been difficult to do so when every door was firmly shut. Not that they particularly wanted to snoop in the soldier's bedrooms but the attic? What was there. And surely not every single room on the second and third floors were bedrooms?

"There are a few historical books in the library, undoubtedly purchased by the previous owner as they feature the manor. It's a Georgian manor, heavily updated during the Victorian period. I'm sure you've noticed the Gothic theme, the opulence of some rooms? It was recently renovated again, it seems, because there's a pool on the grounds" the Major told them, walking at a comfortable pace.

He seemed very at home in the Manor.

"But who owned it?"

The Major glanced at Jim, "I'm afraid I don't know"

"So it was empty?"

The Major nodded.

"That's lucky"

"Indeed. And here is our kitchen, probably one of the more important rooms in the house" the kitchen was in the lower level of the house. It was cold and a little dark, despite the long and narrow windows.

Elizabeth smiled as she looked at the stone walls, butlers sink and stacked firewood. It was like something from a movie or museum.

"I guess the old owners ate out a lot" she said, looking at the old stove and oven. It was sturdy but neglected, looking like something from the 50s or 60s. The kitchen was covered in clutter, cans and tins and bottles. Some glass candles had burned down to their base and were left discarded in a small cluster.

She looked at a bright, full tray of apples on the table.

The apples Frank had taken from the supermarket.

Glancing at Jim, she saw him smile sadly.

She felt some of the enjoyment slip away from her at the painful reminder of their fallen friend.

"You see under the wood?" the Major asked, directing their attention away from each other, away from their painful memories. Both Jim and Elizabeth looked; in an alcove in the wall were rows and rows of firewood, chopped neatly and uniformly. Beneath them were three deep holes, looking a little dusty and dirty. One had a thick iron pot resting inside, "they're ovens. We want to utilize them. Private Clifton - I believe you have met him, Jim? - has experience with wood ovens. His family owned a bakery and he's been working to get the stoves up and running. I believe we'll be able to utilize them tonight, he's worked very hard. They'd been left for who knows how long. He's also fixing up a new boiler system"

The Major watched as Elizabeth ran her fingers along the wood, glancing into the ovens as he spoke.

"You don't have a generator?" Jim asked, looking around the room as Elizabeth moved to fiddle with a rocking chair near a storage cupboard. The old stove and oven looked untouched, hadn't the soldiers been using it? They must have used it, they'd had bread last night.

The Major slowly moved to face Jim, "We do. That's why you were able to take a warm shower, enjoy your stew. We use it at night to heat the shower and once a day for cooking but it's not ideal"

"Why?" he inquired.

The Major cocked his head, "'Why'?"

Elizabeth paused, holding open a heavy, stained hardback cookery book.

"The world we know has finished, Jim" Elizabeth slowly put the book down, feeling uncomfortably drawn in to the Majors quiet words, "law, order, healthcare, energy and power. The old ways are gone. We have ourselves and that's it. If our generator breaks, if our solar panels are damaged, we will be left without the amenities we're so used to. The amenities we need. We need to prepare for that."

Elizabeth snuggled into her hoody, feeling like an outsider in their conversation.

"By using fire?" Jim sounded unconvinced by the grandeur of the Major's words.

"Exactly. If we have heat, we can enjoy warm showers, hot food, we can sterilize tools. Clean water and fire..." he glanced at Elizabeth before smiling, "essentials to human life. So. Shall we move on? I imagine Jones will be coming soon to prepare for dinner. I hear he's got something quite spectacular planned"

Jim nodded, feeling disquieted though he couldn't quite pin down why.

"Do either of you like to read?" the Major asked, leading them back along the old, tired corridor and up into the main lobby.

They both nodded in the affirmative.

"Then you must feel free to use the library, we all have work here but of course free time, too"

Elizabeth couldn't imagine Mitchell sitting down with a book and she smiled a little, unable to help herself. As if reading her thoughts, the Major continued, "the days of video games are well behind us, though we have a lot of board games here. Chess, checkers, cards and I believe, if I'm not mistaken, we have a shogi board"

"What's that?" Elizabeth asked as Jim stepped into the library.

"Japanese chess" he shrugged elegantly, "I can't play it myself but the points is, there's enough here to keep us amused"

Elizabeth nodded as she stepped into the library. Jim whistled as he twirled, looking at the towering bookcases. They were tall, reaching the ceiling easily, cluttered with books; thick, thin, paperback and hardback. It looked old and expensive, like a movie set rather than a real room.

Near an empty fireplace was a soft looking, wide chaise lounge and there were three velvet, hard backed chairs scattered around the room. Someone had draped a thick throw over the chaise lounge. Elizabeth couldn't help but grin when she saw it. On a cold winter day with the fire roaring, that would make the most perfect nest.

"I have an office through here" the Major told them, pointing towards two dark, wooden doors while making no move to actually show them "and when I'm not patrolling that's usually where you can find me"

He glanced down at his watch as Jim flipped open a book casually without real interest, "It will be time for dinner soon. There is someone I'd like you to meet and then perhaps you can freshen up before we eat?"

They both nodded their consent, following the Major out of the library. Elizabeth didn't need to freshen up, she hadn't been awake for very long, but she felt it wise to agree all the same.

Walking in silence, the walked back down towards the kitchen once more.

"You're sure if's safe here? The Manor, I mean" Jim asked, feeling a little claustrophobic in the dark and narrow corridor.

"Certainly, Jim. We control everything, you needn't worry"

Elizabeth and Jim glanced at each other briefly. Control everything? That was impossible. The infected couldn't be controlled, what was stopping them from charging the manor?

The Sergeant had told her about the technicalities that kept them safe but safety and total control were very different things.

"Forgive me but...how can you control everything? I mean..the infected,they can't be controlled-" Elizabeth queried, shaking her head a little.

The Major watched her, amusement dancing over his face.

"-that's in their nature. They're violent and unpredictable and fast. How do you control that?" Jim finished with a frown.

"Quite easily" the Major replied, speaking to Jim, the amusement gone from his face, "of course they're 'violent and fast' but on the contrary, that makes them very much predictable"

Jim shook his head, Elizabeth folded her arms uncomfortably, unconvinced.

"Here" the Major opened a heavy door, working through two padlocks with practiced ease.

They were just off from the kitchen.

The Major nodded his head towards the now open door, a small, encouraging smile on his face. Dutifully, Jim and Elizabeth stepped out and into a bright, enclosed courtyard. It was very much like the area she had waited in after her medical check, high walls, bare floor. It was just bigger, colder and covered in low hanging white sheets.

She frowned as Jim reached out towards a sheet.

Was it bloody?

The clanging and dragging of chains seemed to explode suddenly, ominously announcing the presence of another.

With a guttural roar, an infected slashed its arms wildly, lunging through the sheets.

Elizabeth screamed in shock, in pure fear. They were safe here, how could there be an infected? How could the Major bring them here? She flung herself backwards, jerking in horrible surprise when her back met the Major's firm chest. He was still, unmovable. Before she could turn, try to push through him, to run back into the bowels of the house, his strong hands found her upper arms, stilling her quite effectively.

Breathing heavily, her eyes welled.

"It's quite alright" the Major assured her, and, as she pressed herself away from the reaching, raging infected, further into the Major's body, she briefly felt his thumb rub her arm in a fleeting, comforting - and entirely useless - gesture.

"What the fuck?!" Jim exploded, pressed against the wall. His eyes were wide, his breathing jagged. He looked pale, sweaty, panicked.

"Jim. Elizabeth. Meet Mailer"

The infected man, Mailer, lunged once more before the wind fluttered the white sheets. With a jerk of its head, the infected began to jerk like a trapped dog, the thick chain dragging with its movements.

"What the...you're fucking keep that thing here!?" Jim almost hissed, slowly straightening himself as he saw they weren't in danger. He rubbed at his chest.

The infected couldn't reach them.

With a roar and twitching body, Mailer projectile vomited a steady stream of what looked like bloody water and Elizabeth whimpered. There was no way that could be safe. Frank got infected by dead blood and here...here was an infected channeling The Exorcist all over the courtyard?

"Why?" Elizabeth all but whispered, eyes welling, wishing the Major would step back, let them retreat into the house once more.

"He became infected almost a week ago, now. We overpowered him" the Major loosened his grip on Elizabeth's arms "Mitchell knocked him out cold and we brought him here. Got chains around his neck and feet.."

"You're keeping him alive?" Elizabeth breathed.

"Why would you do that?" Jim asked, righting himself fully.

"The idea was for us to learn, for it to teach us"

The infected shuffled further into the confines of its cage, dragging its limp leg and chain as it went.

Jim shook his head. The infected was still wearing its camouflage uniform, clearly it was a fellow solider. How could the Major refer to one of his men as "it" so easily?

"And? Has he?"

The Major stepped back easily and Elizabeth darted back into the safety of the dark, tight corridor, slinking to the ground, trying to calm her breathing.

"In a sense...yes. He's taught me, Jim, that he will never bake bread. He will never farm crops. He will never raise livestock. He has taught me that he is utterly future less"

The Major entered the corridor fully, glancing down at Elizabeth before looking at Jim once more, "he is teaching me his weaknesses and, in time, he will teach me how long it will take for him to starve"

"Come" he reached a strong arm down to Elizabeth and she took it tentatively, "you should both freshen up before dinner"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Dabbing at her eyes, with a super soft, extra large tissue she'd found in the lower cabinet beneath her sink, Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. She'd been stupid to put on some makeup; she wanted nothing more than to splash her face with cold water. How could there be an infected here in the manor and why did the Major introduce them to him...it...in such a way?

Scrunching the tissue and placing it softly in the small, battered copper trashcan beside the sink, she shook her head. She wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight, knowing what she knew. As the candle flickered, she took another deep breath and scooped up the foundation powder once more, dabbing it around her eyes and cheeks, covering the track marks the few tears she'd shed had made. She placed the compact neatly beside the sink and picked up the box of tissues. Blowing out the candle and glancing out the window, watching the clear sky and moon illuminate the room with a cold, icy light, she stepped into the relative cosines of her bedroom. Carefully placing the tissues on her rather empty bed side table, she slipped off her hoody and jogging bottoms. She put them neatly on the chair of the old vanity near the window.

The Sergeant and Major had mentioned that the dinner was to be a formal one and while she wasn't going to dress up, she thought she could do better than the hoody. She could try and be normal once again. She shook out a pair of black boot cut jeans before quickly folding them and replacing them. She touched a pair of corduroy pants, lightly amused but otherwise uninterested. She found a pair of black skinny jeans, checking the tag as she pulled them out. Usually they'd be too tight but she'd lost weight since infection. Everyone had. She slipped them on with relative ease. Flicking through the blouses and shirts neatly dangling on velvet hangers, she tugged a thick, white chiffon shirt towards her. It was, like the sweater and hoody, over sized but she slipped it on anyway, enjoying the material as it almost swamped her frame. There was something comforting about oversize clothes, she thought, smoothing the shirt.

She glanced down into the bowels of the cupboard, wondering where she would find some shoes. The thin slippers she'd been given were fine and perfectly serviceable but they were a little slippery on the marble floor of the lobby.

Kneeling but seeing nothing, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Elizabeth?" it was Sergeant Farrell. She smiled, comforted immediately by his presence, she called out an invitation to enter. As the door clicked and opened, she stood to face him.

"Are you OK?" he inquired, watching as she righted herself.

"Yes, thank you for asking. I was just looking for shoes..."

"Shoes?" he repeated, glancing at her slippered feet. He gestured for her to follow him and she did, blowing out the candles lining the mantle place of the fire as she did.

"Yeah not that I'm ungrateful but I have everything but shoes" she smiled a little as he shut the door.

"I'll ask for you" he assured, walking with her towards the stairs.

"Sergeant..." she began nervously, "I met Mailer..."

"Ah. I imagine that must have been quite the fright?"

She nodded, coming to pause at the top of the stairs.

"You can sleep safely, Elizabeth. Mailer isn't a threat to you. He's secure"

"...but he's infected"

"I promise you, you have nothing to fear from him"

She nodded, still unsure, still unsold but she did trust the kind Sergeant.

"Private Clifton has the kitchen ovens up and running. It's wonderful news. We won't need to rely on the generator anymore and Jones managed to cook a hot meal in the oven. Please, don't trouble yourself over Mailer. Try to enjoy dinner?"

She nodded again and they moved down the stairs in comfortable silence. Elizabeth began to feel nervous when she began to hear chanting and banging from the dining room. Were they singing about food?

The Sergeant said nothing, but he did have a look of sympathetic understanding in his eyes.

The banging - Elizabeth realized it was cutlery against a table - seemed to reach a wild crescendo and just as the Sergeant opened the door it appeared as though the final words were being sung, "-we hope it's chips, it's chips!"

Booming laughter exploded from the soldiers but their racket stopped.

A few soldiers craned to peer at the doorway, seemingly disappointed when they saw it was a guest and not their food.

The Major stood at her entrance. He was dressed in a fine military suit, looking like he should be leading a military ball rather than sitting at the head of a rowdy table in a post-apocalyptic manor but she had to admire his attempt to carry on as usual. Keep calm and carry on. She wondered if that was hit motto? Before she could worry over where to sit, Sergeant Farrell discreetly pointed a spare seat, directly in front of Selena, and she aimed for it with a grateful smile and a quiet thanks.

She felt very watched, despite the murmurs of conversation among the men, and she kept her eyes focused on her friends and the plates on the table, feeling self conscious and unsure.

This was the first time they were all together.

"Doesn't that attract them?" Selena asked, her lips pursed, causing the laughter to slowly quiet and cease. She glanced at Elizabeth, as she passed, her eyes weary.

In that moment, Elizabeth desperately wished she'd had a chance to meet the two girls before meeting for dinner. It would have been so much better to gather, to talk in private and away from the rowdy men.

She reached her seat, unable to shake herself away from the thought.

She smiled at Selena, unsure of how to act in front of the soldiers. Looking tense, Selena did not return the smile.

Selena was sat between Hannah and Jim and while neither of them looked happy - Selena looked very much on edge - they were at least clean and fresh. It was a nice change. Jim had changed into a crisp white shirt, though it was far too big for his frame. Selena had chosen much like Elizabeth had earlier in the day - a large and warm sweater. Shrugging her shoulders a little, feeling the chiffon, Elizabeth wondered if she was silly to have changed her clothes.

She saw the Hannah, too, had showered. She was wearing a black, long sleeved ribbed shirt with her old, baby blue hoody tied around her waist. Elizabeth could see the stained arms tied in a knot, just poking over the table. Had Bedford tried to take it from her? It was filthy and bloody, it should have definitely on the burn list.

Looking at the sweater, Elizabeth felt uneasy.

Mailer vomiting his infected blood in the yard, Hannah wearing her stained and bloody sweater at the table...

It was impossible to forget what was going on outside the safety of their new home.

Hannah sat stoically, silently. She didn't raise her eyes, keeping them trained on the empty plate in front of her. Elizabeth desperately wanted to talk to the two women but given the soldiers around them and lack of privacy, she didn't speak. Pulling out the chair, she sat down.

"No, generally not" the Major replied when Elizabeth had settled herself and was comfortably seated. He was looking at Selena but not expanding further.

Jim frowned. That certainly hadn't been their experience, "but they're attracted to noise. Movement. Light...it's worse at night-"

They'd barely traveled at night, keeping hidden.

"We're quite safe here, noise or no noise, day or night" the Major assured, again not expanding on why they were safe exactly. The infected didn't change personalities based on location, for crying out loud. Why would those up North act any differently from in London?

The Sergeant had told her that the location, the isolation added to their safety. Maybe that's just what it came down to?

"But-" Before Jim could protest further, protest the ridiculousness of the answer, the door opened once more and once more the room was met with boisterous cheers, whoops and yelps.

Selena winced at the ruckus.

The food had arrived.

As the men cheered, a nervously happy soldier wearing a frilly pink apron deposited a huge platter on the center of the table. He seemed to bask in the ooohhs, ahhhs and appreciative comments.

"What's this? Omelette! Why...you've prepared a feast, Jones!" the Major announced, happily scooping up a spoonful of omelette and taking a celebratory bite before spitting it out almost immediately in disgust.

The mood dropped.

"Jones..." the Major spoke politely, picking bits of egg from his tongue, "when you prepared this omelette, did you fail to notice that the eggs were off?"

Jones stuttered, "I-I-I thought...well I thought the salt would mask the taste, Sir..."

The men groaned.

"Get rid of it" the Major ordered, sending the deflated man back to the kitchen with the useless dish. As the Major sat down and began spooning mushy asparagus onto his plate, the others took it as their signal and began to do the same.

"I can't tell you how much we need someone with a little flair in the kitchen" the Major stated dryly. Spearing one of the tinned asparagus shoots as best he could with his fork, he smiled at the women, "I don't suppose any of you can cook?"

Cook? Selena scoffed. What was next, do the washing and cleaning?

"I'm a pharmacist" Selena said with a raised eyebrow, glancing at him sideways, not bothering to address him fully, insulted by the question. She'd slogged through university, slogged to prove herself at work, proved herself against subtle and blatant racism, sexism and now she had survived ravaged London, she'd defended friends, killed friends, she'd been the strength of the group and she'd be damned before letting some trumped up soldier send her to a kitchen.

The fury, indigence of her fiery thoughts must have been plastered across her face.

The Major smiled dryly.

"I'm a dab hand though-" Jim said with an uncomfortable smile, trying to diffuse the tension. Selena shot him a look of annoyance, annoyance at the situation or at him, he wasn't sure, before scooping up some runny mashed potato. Even though it came from a packet it was disgusting. How could someone mess up packaged mash? All you had to do was add water.

Elizabeth loved to cook but she wasn't going to volunteer that information, not now. It wasn't the right time.

"I wanted to be a vet" Hannah said dully from her slumped position, pushing the food around her plate. Selena had kindly served the young woman some asparagus, potato and corned beef but she'd not touched any.

The others were cramming food into their mouths.

All eyes moved to the girl, though she didn't react to being the sudden center of attention.

Elizabeth wondered if she would ever really react to anything again. In the desolate world of horror, her father had been her sole source of happiness...and she'd seen him slaughtered before her eyes.

As silence fell, the sounds of chewing and cutlery scraping against china the only thing filling the room, Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well, you still could be" a chipper voice announced from the end of the table, "When all this is over-" the speaker shoveled some potato into his mouth, apparently uncaring of or not noting its sour taste, ""You know, we're gonna raise chickens, that could be your-"

"Raise chickens?" boomed Mitchell, "what's that got to do with being a vet? Bloody hell, man. Raise chickens? When all this is over? Listen to him, he's still waiting for bloody Marks and Sparks to open" he laughed at his own words, the others tittering joyfully alongside him.

For a moment, the atmosphere seemed to brighten, tension ease. Elizabeth felt momentarily lighter, smiling briefly. Selena didn't scoff. Jim smiled and chuckled, albeit somewhat guiltily and shortly, as if he knew he shouldn't...after all they were mourning and they were still outsiders, the newcomers to a group they didn't really belong to.

Not yet.

Laughing himself, the solider shrugged, "yeah, yeah good one, Mitchell. I just mean when things get back to normal-"

"Ain't never going back to normal mate" Mitchell replied, still chuckling but with a mouth full of chopped asparagus, "you ain't half got your head up your arse-"

The soldiers laughed again before Jones, the poor cook, sitting quietly in his seat having slunk back in, nervously added, "we are going to Marks and Spencer's, though, right? A...right? Aren't we gonna do a recon-"

This emitted more laughter from the soldiers, "What we gonna go there for?!"

"You dolt" Mitchell grinned, his words unkind but tone friendly, "you really wanna risk your neck for birthday cards and cardigans?"

"We're gonna try Tesc-" before one of the other soldiers could correct the nervous cook, the poor boy who seemed to be liked but clueless, another speaker chimed in.

It was Sergeant Farrell.

"I think Bell's got a point" he spoke thoughtfully, "I mean...about normality. Think about about it. Really think about it...we, I mean, man that is...man has only been around for the blink of an eye...so if this infection wipes us all out..well. That is a return to normality..."

Elizabeth watched him speak. He spoke with thoughtfulness, a soft kindness. The same way he'd spoken to her.

Kindness seemed to be in his nature.

Chewing thoughtfully, not hating the mixture of the corned beef and watery mash, Elizabeth nodded a little. It was very philosophical and a little dark but she supposed the Sergeant was correct.

Selena shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the jovial atmosphere seemed to turn into a cold, uncomfortable iciness. Jim chewed his asparagus slowly.

They didn't see Mitchell's look of pure disgust, the other soldier's looks of disdain and mocking faces. They felt it though.

They felt that the Sergeant was not well liked.

When they had first entered the dining room, Selena and Hannah felt out of place among the roguish, friendliness of the soldiers. Their macho jokes, their familiarity reinforced the fact that the small group of survivors really did not belong among the military men. They'd felt uneasy then, only settling a little more when Jim and the Major had arrived.

Selena pursed her lips, wondering if the Sergeant felt the same way she did.

"Is that what you meant, Bell?" the Sergeant finished.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah" the soldier shrugged easily, truthfully wishing he'd not even bothered to speak in the first place.

"Tell me Farrell, why exactly did you join the army?" the Major inquired coldly from his place at the head of the table, drawing all eyes to him.

Some of the soldiers scoffed, one jeered laughingly.

Elizabeth frowned, as did Jim.

"He's not wrong" Jim stated with quiet confidence.

Mitchell scoffed.

"Dark but apt" Elizabeth added, glancing away from the Major, directing a small smile at Sergeant Farrell. She felt nervous to be speaking but she liked Farrell.

He was nice.

The Major smiled indulgently towards her, "the army doesn't need a new age guru, some spiritual, philosophical guide"

This spurred some laughter from the soldiers and Elizabeth felt herself blushing at his rebuttal.

As the soldiers watched him once more, he continued, "I'll tell you my take on it...in the weeks, months, years leading up to the infection, I've seen people killing people. As far back as I care to remember: people killing people. Which in my mind puts us in a state of normality right now"

Hannah stared at the Major.

Elizabeth frowned, poking at her corned beef, no longer wanting to partake in this conversation, no longer really wanting to be at the table.

"I don't think there's anything normal about this" Hannah intoned, but in her dull voice there was a hint of reproach, a hint of tone among the monotone sadness.

"Hannah, you should eat..." Selena advised lowly, trying to deflect the girl, squeezing her arm.

"I don't want to eat" she replied stubbornly, glancing at the soldiers around her, stopping to frown at the stoic Major, "I want to bury my dad. The man you just left? The man who died a "normal" death-"

"Hannah-" the Major begun before a deafening boom seemed to explode around them.

It sounded like a bomb had exploded outside.

The table shuddered, the tinkle of china meeting china and the dancing jingle of the chandelier sounded with a beautiful but ominous chime before the soldiers burst into action.

"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"

The soldiers ran from the room with practiced speed and ease, shouting instructions, weapons ready.

The Major stayed at his seat, calmly watching the survivors.

As Hannah sniffed, startled and shaking, Selena jumped up.

"There's no need to worry. We're protected" the Major assured, easily taking a sip of wine.

Selena said nothing, marching to the beautiful windows. The ground had been flooded with bright, painfully white flood lights and everywhere the sound of guns could be heard. Hannah covered her face as Jim slid into Selena's vacant seat to comfort the cringing girl.

Elizabeth flinched. Everything was so loud.

As a particularly violent explosion sent a half empty wine glass falling onto the table, Selena grabbed her machete and dashed into the foyer.

Elizabeth hadn't even realized she'd been sat with it.

"Selena!" Jim called, scraping his chair back and running after her. It was as if she'd started a chain reaction because, as Jim's hands left Hannah's arms, the young girl had silently followed him, too.

The Major sat, still and calm and Elizabeth met his eyes.

She half stood, fully intending to follow her friends but the Major raised his hand, "sit"

At his order, she froze.

"Elizabeth, you've been told time and again. You are safe here. If you don't listen, if you don't trust me, you will always be on edge" he took another sip of wine, the command clear in his voice when he spoke again, "Sit down"

The sound from outside had lessened considerably. Had the threat passed?

Slowly, she sat down on her chair once more, following his order, not entirely wanting to, but spurred by his tone.

"Let us protect you"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Standing back in the lobby, machete firmly in her hand, Selena exhaled. She could see the soldiers returning, they were laughing, whooping and jostling.

They looked almost exuberant.

"Oi oi" Mitchel laughed, coming into the lobby with bright eyes and a heaving chest. Everything about him exuded exhilaration. He caught sight of Selena, eyes dancing, clutching her machete, ready to defend herself against the infected, "you don't need that little penknife no more princess. Not when I'm here to protect you-"

Selena scoffed, shaking her head. She'd survived herself, by herself. She didn't need this cocky soldier to protect her. To mock her.

Jim shifted in the shadows, Hannah holding his shirt behind him. He felt a guilty pit in his stomach. It had been Selena, brave Selena who had lunged for her weapon and prepared to defend their small group. He felt a little sick, watching Selena stand in front of the soldiers. He'd already fallen into the comforts of the manor, of the stability and luxuries the soldier's had provided. Elizabeth was still in the dining room, she was like him.

Was Selena really the sole strength of their group?

It was only Selena who was resolutely retaining her independence. The guilty feeling grew.

Licking her lips, Selena looked at Mitchell. Did killing thrill him? Thrill them?

"...but, I mean..if you really wanna hold a big stick..." Mitchell chortled, grinning at her machete, "you should just hold this" before he clutched his crotch firmly, giving in a shake.

"Mitchell" Farrell barked, but the lack of respect from the dining room clearly spilled into the soldier's daily lives too, because he went ignored.

At her disgusted snarl, he laughed with the other soldiers before snatching the machete from her grip. Immediately, with almost snake like reflexes, her hand shot out and she slapped him hard across the face, before she snatched the machete back.

Mitchell and the other soldiers laughed even harder, "wow! Like it feisty, eh?" he chortled, slapping her on the bum.

"Hey, cut it out-" Jim shouted.

"Fuck you" Selena hissed, shaking her head in disgust. She turned to walk away before one of the soldiers jeered something about an invitation and then, as Jim exclaimed in disgust and fear, Mitchell asked, "yeah? How about right now?" as he grabbed Selena in a tight bear hug, her weapon clattering to the ground, barely heard amidst the cheering and shouting.

Jim lunged forward, unthinkingly darting to help her. He shoved past a lunging soldier and, as Selena kicked out her legs while emitting a scream, he shoved Jones hard to the floor-

"Corporeal!" Sergeant Farrell raged, dashing into the fray. He was reaching angrily for a baton strapped to his belt - something that looked out of place in his uniform, looking like it belonged with a police officer rather than a soldier - and he brought it down hard into Mitchell's back. The soldier fell with a pained grunt to the floor, releasing Selena as he went.

"Ohhh you cunt" he groaned, clutching the side of his stomach.

Sergeant Farrell must have caught him on the side.

A crack of lightening illuminated the hall further for a brief moment, the Major seeming to appear with it, Elizabeth leading, running towards Selena.

"Sergeant!" he commanding, his voice hardly a shout, stilling all the soldiers.

With a mutinous face, Sergeant Farrell slowly replaced his baton.

Immediately at his words, the soldiers stepped back. Elizabeth ran to her friend, clutching her arms, "Selena? Selena are you OK? What-"

But she shook her head angrily, jerking herself free from Elizabeth's hands. She looked down at Mitchell, stepping away from him, from her friends with bright, fierce eyes, chest heaving with each desperate breath.

Silence permeated the grand lobby.

"There will be no more incidents such as this" the Major spoke "am I clear?"

A chorus of "Yes sir" ran out among the men.

"Mitchell, first action after an attack?"

"Secure the perimeter, sir" Mitchell groaned, righting himself slowly.

"Right. Get to it then. Bedford, Jones. Go with him"

Mitchell turned and walked away, the other two following him quickly.

"Sergeant. Clear the bodies off the lawn"

Silently, the Sergeant moved to follow his orders.

"The rest of you go with him. Not you, Clifton"

The other soldiers quickly left the scene.

As the Major silently held Selena's machete out to her, a rueful look on his face he addressed her, "I'm sorry. He meant no harm, it's just his style. It won't happen again-"

"Boys will be boys, right? Well, fuck you, too-" Selena hissed at his apology, his excuse before forcefully grabbing the machete from the his extended hand and stalking away, stamping angrily up the stairs.

"Clifton" the Major said, the order clear in his voice. Clifton nodded, his hat moving with the motion of his head, and moved to follow Selena, to make sure she found her to her room no doubt.

Civilians couldn't wander the manor, after all.

"I apologize. Adrenaline, excitement...it won't happen again" the Major said, looking towards Jim and Elizabeth, "perhaps it would be best to retire for the night? I'm sure everyone would appreciate some space."

He said it so politely but the order was obvious. It wasn't a suggestion.

Hannah nodded and immediately moved to the stairs.

"Hannah?" Elizabeth moved to follow her, but Hannah simply shook her head in a wonderful if not intentional imitation of Selena, folded her arms and left the scene.

Elizabeth looked to Jim in confusion.

"I imagine she's tired" the Major offered, nodding his head at the stairs. Indicating that Elizabeth should follow the young woman.

"Jim?" she asked quietly, unsure what to do.

He was looking pale.

He felt sick. Something was off, wrong. He understood the locked door policy at first, to an extent...but now...now it felt ominous. Selena had been harassed, severely so. These men, these soldiers...if they were to stay, it couldn't happen again.

"It's alright. I think everyone would benefit from time away. Time to think. Go up to bed" the Major replied, not letting Jim speak.

She nodded lightly at his words, looking at Jim once more.

Jim frowned. Think about what? What was the threat he heard? The underlying coldness in his tone?

Had it been a mistake to come here?

He nodded at Elizabeth and, with his input, she slowly went up stairs.

When she was out of sight, the Major addressed Jim, "night cap?"

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked into the library. Dutifully, Jim followed.

"Look, Major-"

"Henry will do at the moment" The Major offered, already pouring two glasses of whisky.

"Fine, Henry. We're grateful, very grateful for your protection and just...just to have found people but if we stay here, your men have to control-"

"Who have you killed?" The Major interrupted.

"I..what?"

"Who have you killed. Selena can't have carried your group the whole time. So. Who have you killed?"

Jim blinked.

"It was a boy"

"A child?"

Jim nodded, feeling shame for a moment. Hadn't he hunted, rather than killed?

"You killed a child. You had to, correct? Otherwise he would have killed you?"

Jim nodded.

"It's survival. The rules have changed. I understand that," the Major took a sip of his whisky, "and if you've killed a child to protect yourself, you understand it too, however unpleasant you may find it"

There was a small knock on the door before it was opened by Clifton.

"It won't happen again, Jim. Selena, Hannah. Elizabeth. They're all quite safe"

Jim shook his head.

Safe.

That word again.

That meaningless word.

"You can take the drink, if you wish" the Major said, opening the door to the study, his office.

Understanding his dismissal, Jim left the drink untouched and followed Clifton up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Elizabeth slipped into bed, glancing out at the clear sky as she did. She didn't close the curtains, she found it comforting to see the moon, the open space beyond the windows. Her shower had been brief, she'd brushed her teeth and removed her makeup without the joy from the previous day or even the morning.

She wanted to see Selena, to speak with Jim and Hannah.

Just the four of them.

What had happened, exactly? She'd been sat with the Major, sitting in a not uncomfortable silence, when the soldier's booming voices, their laughter was heard in the lobby and then, suddenly, there had been shouting. Screaming. She'd ignored the Major's low warning and dashed out into the lobby to find Mitchell on the floor, Selena wide eyed and shaking like a rabbit. Hannah, stoic and Jim looking torn with wild eyes.

Clifton wouldn't tell her anything when he came to lock her door. Told her not to worry, told her it was "just banter, like"

She closed her eyes, seeing Selena's face as she did.

It didn't look like banter, that was for sure.

She sighed and moved deeper into her warm duvet.

Clifton told her to be ready at seven, ready to report for her duties.

Their new lives really had begun.

Sleep came surprisingly easy to her.

* * *

"I'm fine" Selena said, biting into a soft, white roll stuffed with some kind of tinned luncheon meat, "really"

"I told the Major it couldn't happen again" Jim insisted firmly and Selena nodded.

Wiping her hands together, Elizabeth shook her head, still processing the story she'd been told "I'm sorry that happened to you, Selena"

"Mitchell apologized" Selena's voice was cool, easy, "said it was just adrenaline. Said he didn't mean anything by it"

"He does seem pretty rough around the edges-" Elizabeth said as Jim queried, "and you're fine with that apology?"

"Yeah"

Elizabeth shook her head, "not to be rude, Selena but how much Valium did you take?"

"Yeah, how stoned are you?" Jim asked, remembering Selena's fire from the night before.

It was beyond justified but here, now, Selena was sitting before them, fresh and calm...it was a little disconcerting.

"I've...cooled down a bit" Selena nodded, finishing her roll, "Don't get me wrong guys" she clarified, looking at her friend's faces, "I'm fucking pissed, yeah? And I swear to God if I see Mitchell again" she took a breath "...but for now...for Hannah..some normalcy, some stability wouldn't be a bad thing"

Jim and Elizabeth nodded.

"For now" Jim confirmed and the three sat for a moment, thinking on it.

Could this be a permanent thing for them?

Jim opened his mouth, ready to mention his strange sense of fear from the previous evening, the worry but Selena beat him to it. Besides, it all felt a little different now, in the light of day and after a decent sleep.

He'd been silly. Mitchell had got caught up in the excitement of having found survivors, he was brash and crude anyway. Maybe it was just his humor, he got carried away. Everyone seemed decent...it was fine.

Fine.

"So what kept you in the dining room, anyway?" Selena asked Elizabeth, breaking the silence.

"The Major" Elizabeth shrugged apologetically, sipping her tea, "he told me to stay, that we're, you know-"

Jim and Selena both nodded and chimed "safe"

"-yeah. Told me if we didn't trust that we were safe, we'd always be on edge here. Told me to sit and wait and, I dunno. I did.."

The fire popped and all three turned to glance at it before Jim sighed, "right. I'm due outside. Mule work..how about you two?"

"I'm cooking" Elizabeth said, stacking their plates, "but I like cooking, so..." she trailed off and Selena nodded, "yeah you're alright at it, too"

Elizabeth smiled. That was high praise coming from Selena.

"Selena?"

"Helping Bedford. I have to inventory all the medicine I brought and also a bunch of unorganized stuff they swiped before coming here. Bedford said it was a mess, so that'll be great fun" she said dryly, "a pharmacists life never changes. Always cleaning up after doctors"

Jim grimaced. That sounded mind numbing, "Makes me glad to be chopping wood"

"How about Hannah?"

"Still sleeping"

"No, I meant her job"

"Oh. Yeah, laundry duty. It's on rotation, the Sergeant said" Selena shrugged, "our day is Sunday. Soldiers Tuesday, Thursday and household stuff on Friday. I was with her when he explained it"

"Lot to do alone" Jim mused aloud before Selena and Elizabeth scoffed.

He looked at them, clueless, "What?"

"Obviously she won't be doing it alone, Jim" Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"We're women. One hundred percent we'll be dragged into laundry duty-"

"Ah..."Jim nodded.

Shaking her head in amusement, Elizabeth moved the plates to the sink.

"Jim?" Clifton, the somewhat friendly soldier from the previous night pooped his head into the kitchen, "gonna get going or what mate?"

Slapping his hands on his knees, Jim stood, following the soldier down the corridor and out of sight.

"Mornin' Lizzie!" Jones chuckled, almost bouncing into the kitchen. He seemed somewhat...exuberant this chilly morning and Selena watched him cautiously, as if nobody had the right to be so energetic and happy.

Elizabeth didn't know how to react. Such energy was a bit much for such an early start and such a gray day.

"He's just had his morning walk" Bedford grinned, coming in the room behind the young man.

Jones grinned, apparently totally at ease being referred to like a dog. He was already tying a pink apron around his uniform and handed a checkered yellow number out to Elizabeth.

She took it hesitantly.

"Gets messy, like, cooking does, so you wanna wear this and I dunno I wanna pair of gloves, too but we don't really have any for cooking-"

"You can't wear gloves to cook" Elizabeth shook her head.

"Dunno, think it'd make things easier"

"You have to feel the food-"

Bedford laughed, "that's well posh, that is"

"No, you know what I mean. You can't wear gloves to cook, that's just wrong"

"I was thinking, right, I was thinking about those eggs-" Jones hurried, excited, already finished thinking about gloves.

"The rotten ones?" Selena clarified with a raised eyebrow.

Jones shook his head, "nah I just reckon salt was the wrong way to go, we got this tub of oregano, see-"

Elizabeth nodded, remembering the stew she'd eaten the first night.

"-mate, ain't no chance we're having those eggs" Bedford shook his head.

"I really think we can make them work!" Jones insisted and Elizabeth wondered if he was trying to redeem himself by serving edible eggs.

"And I think I don't wanna deal with an outbreak of the shits!" Bedford shook his head, "drop the eggs, man! Christ!" he laughed.

Selena stepped into the corridor, "not that this hasn't been thrilling, yeah, but don't we have work to do?"

Pursing his lips and raising his hands, like a teenager being scolded his his mother, Bedford turned on his heels and followed Selena out of the kitchen without another word.

The fire crackled once more.

The soldiers had come and left without so much as a how do you do.

There were certainly no formalities around the lower ranking guys.

"I do think we should move away from the eggs..." Elizabeth suggested to Jones, thinking back to the food and her job at hand.

After an hour of debate, conversation, education and lots of can checking and what felt like a ridiculously long time spent rooting in the surprisingly freezing and well stocked larder, Elizabeth had convinced Jones that a pie was the way to go.

After assuring him that a water crust pastry really didn't need any eggs, something he was reluctant to accept, they got to work.

Jones, despite being a soldier, was actually very receptive and followed instructions perfectly. She'd expected him to be the one barking orders or being belligerent, unwilling to listen to her, a mere civilian, but she felt bad when she realized how nice he actually was and his energy, she had to admit, seemed to brighten her spirits.

"Right so here's the uh wood oven...Clifton heated it by, uh, burning wood.." Jones fumbled, kneeling before the intimidating ovens. They were already warm, comfortingly so and Elizabeth nodded.

"Do you know how to use them?"

"Yeah sure just..we just put in the pies and then, uh..wait? They do all the work..there's a fire over there that heats the boiler now, too, he got that set up last night..it does the work itself, we don't have to do nothin'"

"But these ovens don't have any doors?" she muttered, glancing at the stacks of pies, all waiting in a variety of pie dishes.

They'd found ten large pie dishes, ten smaller ones and fifteen individual dishes and had decided to put the topping directly in them and drape the crust over the top. It was less work but, hopefully, still delicious. They certainly looked promising, and Elizabeth and Jones had tried the filling and found it very delightful. Carrots, potato, chunks of beef and mushroom. Sure, it all came from a can, but after Elizabeth had added wine, stock, garlic and salt, the end result was very pleasant. They would have enough leftovers to store in the larder, too.

Each soldier would have a small pie, they'd boil some canned veggies and make gravy and, Elizabeth assured Jones she could show him how to make the mashed potato so that it was thick and fluffy and not even remotely watery, and bingo.

They'd agreed on the menu.

"Yeah"

"Well. Have you ever used an oven without a door?" Elizabeth asked, hoping to prompt more of a reaction from him.

"Uh..."

"Have you ever used an oven?" she laughed teasingly and Jones nudged her with a chuckling, "oi"

"I just...I dunno, is it an even heat? If it's open are they going to cook evenly?"

"Let's just try" Jones shrugged and, with a shrug of her own, Elizabeth followed him.

Surely this would be better than rotten eggs.

They'd had another cup of tea, Elizabeth laughing when she realized the soldiers might have withdrawals when they ran out of teabags but sincerely enjoying how normal, how very British she felt.

As the pies cooked and bubbled invitingly in the open ovens, Jones began to stack up a bunch of instant noodle pots.

"Lunch?" Elizabeth asked with a head tilt.

"People'll be wanting lunch in an hour and this is easiest..." Jones said, a little defensively.

"Do they eat in the kitchen?"

"Nah it's like self serve in the dining room. Everyone's got different schedules, we only really sit together as a family at dinner"

As a family.

Elizabeth blinked.

"Let's just make pasta. Cold pasta salad-"

Jones looked uncertain.

"Cook the pasta in a big pot, drain it, add tuna, add some of those tomatoes and stir in some seasoning-"

"Cold pasta...?"

"It tastes good! It's a bit healthier than instant noodles anyway, and less waste and easy because it's a one pot meal" Elizabeth promised, indignant, "besides those fresh tomatoes will be off soon and we should save the long lasting food for real emergencies-"

Jones shrugged before moving to replace the noodles, "Your funeral. They like their food..."

But, surprisingly, the pasta salad had been ridiculously easy to make and Jones had grumbled to himself that "there was no way tuna and cold pasta should taste that decent", which she took to be a good compliment.

Lugging a huge, full pot each, the gently set them down on the dining room table.

"I'll do the plates and cutlery, Lizzie" Jones offered graciously, "you wanna go check on the pies?"

She nodded, not actually wanting to be around while people collected their food. If it was bad, she didn't want to hear of it first hand.

"I'll bring you back down a bowl?" Jones offered and again, she nodded.

He was being very sweet.

"Hey" she said, looking over her shoulder to ensure they were alone, "you know we should taste the pies before serving them at dinner? It would be irresponsible of us not to"

Jones giggled with excitement and she grinned along with him.

She felt like a naughty child, sneaking a cookie from the jar.

"I'll be there in a sec!"

She smiled and turned, heading back to the kitchen.


End file.
